Pixelnauts.net

Walk into your local Gamestop, lan café, or geeky next door neighbor's basement and ask any random gamer if they think that video games are a legitimate form of art and it's a safe bet that more times than not you'll get an impassioned response arguing in the affirmative. Considering that many gamers spend an inordinate (some say unhealthy) amount of time playing games (myself included), the question is one that many gamers are personally invested in. After all, many hardcore gamers oftentimes choose to spend their hard-earned discretionary income on an eagerly anticipated video game rather than the latest big budget Hollywood blockbuster (again, I fall firmly into this category). This being the case, a lot of us feel that if by virtue of its medium alone is enough to consider the artistic value of say, Armageddon, why then is Fumito Ueda’s seminal achievement, Shadow of the Colossus for example -- a game with considerable more depth and infinitely more entertaining than Michael Bay’s 'ode to explosions in outer space' -- not given the same treatment? It's a fair question to be sure, and one that has even managed to grab the attention of noted film critic, Roger Ebert who remains skeptical of the notion. The issue of course ultimately boils down to what exactly one considers art to be and herein is the heart of the debate.

The crux of Ebert's argument is summed up by as follows: “Video games by their nature require player choices, which is the opposite of the strategy of serious film and literature, which requires authorial control.” His statement is speaking to the central quality that separate these mediums from each other: interactivity vs. reactivity. And it’s his contention that an interactive medium by its very nature precludes the subject’s ability to convey an artistic message effectively, whatever that message may be. In other words, if Orson Welles had decided to create Citizen Kane in the style of a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' novel, the dramatic impact of the famous 'Rosebud' reveal may have been lessened somewhat if the viewer/reader could have chosen the iconic sled to instead be say, an alien invasion.

Gamers, on the other hand, tend to approach the question from a different perspective. For them, it is exactly the medium's interactivity that creates a unique means for artistic expression, one that is just now beginning to burgeon. They argue that the emotional connections created in many of the games released today are simply impossible to recreate in a passive medium such as film or literature where emotional connection to character and setting is something that is created for the reader/viewer rather than created by the player. In addition, gamers cite the creative qualities that are necessary to make games as evidence for a game's status as 'art' -- artistic expressions such as musical scoring, animation, artistic design etc. It is their opinion, that people like Roger Ebert see only the craft of making games and fail to see the artistic potential of the medium.

So who's right? Have video games transcended the constraints of their medium into the realm of fodder for critical analysis? Is their content compelling, unique, and provocative enough to be presented as an expression of the creator or creators' artistic vision? If I'm being perfectly honest here, as yet, the answer is simply no. Further, as an emphatic gamer that plays games across all platforms and genres, I can't think of a single title that does meet these qualifications. The fact is, as much as I love video games, there is simply none that exists today that could definitively be called a piece of modern art. Now as a point of clarification, that is not to say that I do not see the potential of the medium to achieve such a status, just that as yet, I have seen nothing to show me that as of the time of this writing it has.

To argue the point, I'm going to look at one of the few games that I think could legitimately be pointed to as evidence for the motion that video games are in fact art. I'm referring of course, to the aforementioned Playstation 2 classic, Shadow of the Colossus. Why this game? Well, first of all, to state the obvious, it's simply fantastic -- one of the best. It's got it all: breathtaking vistas, a stirring musical score, a compelling narrative, and unique and engaging gameplay to top it all off. I chose this game because as far as video games as art is concerned, Shadow is consistently at the top of players list as evidence for -- and rightly so, I might add. Video games just don't come much better than Shadow.

But if we're going to talk about Shadow as a piece of art, then it's necessary to break it down and figure out what exactly it is that we're talking about. The word 'art' is a pretty nebulous term. It means different things to different people. The type of art to which I am referring in this piece is 'High Art.' We're talking Citizen Kane, War and Peace, Beethoven's 5th, Dogs Playing Poker -- well, maybe not that last one, but you get the idea; important works that are testaments to human nature and vision. According to this standard, immediately 99% of every game ever made fails to qualify (as well as just about everything else for that matter). But when analyzed closely, do the remaining few, among which is Shadow, hold up? Well, let's take a look.

As I mentioned, Shadow can boast some of the most stunning visual and audio designs ever put on screen. I can't imagine anyone who played the game that wasn't immediately impressed when they first encountered the majestic colossi, or the sense of grandeur felt as they initially crossed the massive bridge that connected the ancient and stunning Temple to the bleak environment surrounding it. Many gamers feel that the artistic direction of Ueda San in imagining such a breathtaking world all the way down to each blade of grass is strong evidence to support the artistic merit of the game. The same argument is made for the quality of the musical score that accompanies the protagonist, the enigmatic, 'Wander' throughout his journey. As a point of reference, allow me to refer to something that I often turn to in times of need, Star Wars.

I'm confident that there isn't a soul out there that hasn't at least heard the main theme of the famous space opera. I'm sure it's in your head right now. Further, I can assume with equal confidence that most of us are familiar with the look and shape of the dreaded Death Star, which is now most likely bobbing along to the beat of the main theme already playing inside your head. I bring these up to illustrate the point that the artistic qualities that go into making a game or film i.e. musical/set direction, are not requisite for high art. Doubtless the modelers who constructed the Death Star were artists, and I don't believe anyone would deny that title to John Williams. But do these respective aspects of Star Wars stand alone as art? The fact is, they are supplementary to the film as a whole. I will not for a minute say that I am unimpressed with the works of Skywalker Ranch at realizing the creative vision of George Lucas, just as I am not unimpressed with the work of Team Ico in creating the world of Shadow. However, to point to the visual/audio design of a film or game, as evidence supporting its status as art is inherently flawed. To separate any single aspect of a work, whether it be a film, book, or game and claim it to be art, detracts from the thing itself. In other words, the whole must be greater than the sum of its parts.

This brings us to the second argument to which gamers often turn: the emotions that certain games can elicit are oftentimes just as or more powerful than those caused with film or literature. This argument seems to be the ace in the hole for many gamers and has to do with the nebulous nature of the term 'art.' For them, a work's ability to move you is enough to warrant serious study. For them, art is primarily a things ability to draw out emotion, therefore games qualify. After all, who can forget the guilt felt when you first took down a mighty colossus, or (*spolier alert!*) the pain felt at the death of your faithful steed, Agro? These emotions were real – I felt them too. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. I bet there is at least one person out there who wept like a child at the end of Armageddon. There are two lessons to be learned from this truth: one, people are idiots, and two, a work's ability to elicit emotion is not requisite for high art. It is however, requisite for something else: great story telling.

And now we get to it: narrative. When trying to convince people of the artistic qualities of a game like Shadow, they invariably cite the highly compelling, mature, and original story. When doing this, what they are in fact doing is confusing one practice for another: art for story telling. Which brings me to the final point I want to make.
We are engaging in the wrong debate. Instead of trying to convince others that video games are art -- an exercise in utter futility -- we should instead promote the medium for what it is: the most compelling avenue for storytelling that exists today. When I said earlier that there is no game that exists today that could be seriously considered modern art, I meant it. That is not to say however, that they can't achieve that status in the future, they simply haven't done so yet -- and that's ok. In fact, in an interview with Wired famed Pan's Labyrinth director Guillermo del Toro stated that he believes that the Citizen Kane of games will appear within the decade. With more and more reputable individuals like del Toro believing and promoting these kinds of ideas, I am confident that this will indeed happen. But in the meantime, let's accept our beloved hobby for what it is: great entertainment.